


Speak Easy

by buffyx



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-13
Updated: 2013-05-13
Packaged: 2017-12-11 17:48:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/801430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buffyx/pseuds/buffyx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam is 99% convinced he’s dying, Santana wants to watch the world burn, Cooper is… Cooper, and Kurt and Blaine just want to get married.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Speak Easy

**Sam**

Sam is, like, 99% convinced he’s dying.

“That’s what you get for trying to keep up with me last night, Trouty,” Santana says in a way, _way_ too perky tone of voice. 

Unlike him she does not appear to have the hangover from hell, or any trace of a hangover at all, which means Sam hates her. But then she sets a cup of coffee in front of him, and he loves her, because oh god _coffee_. 

He’s debating if he can manage a sip of it without moving his head off the table when from beside him Mercedes says, “Okay, what exactly did you all _do_ last night?”

He can’t see her since again, that would require moving his head and he learned this morning what a bad idea that is, but he knows she’s not hung over either. However he _can_ smell the waffles she swiped from the hotel breakfast buffet, and it’s making him kind of nauseated. More nauseated. 

He’s never going to eat again. Or move. He’ll just stay here with his head on the table until he dies. Death would be preferable to what he’s feeling right now.

“Well, while you stayed up all night with Hummel braiding each other’s hair, _we_ went to the hotel bar and got our drank on,” Santana says.

Sam recalls that vaguely. And then going to another bar. And then a karaoke bar. And then… he can’t be certain, but he thinks he remembers drinking beer on the Staten Island Ferry? Cooper and Rachel drunkenly reenacting the Titanic scene? After that it’s all a blur. He could never live in New York full time, but the close proximity and abundance of bars is a pretty nice perk.

“Tell me you did not drag Blaine with you,” says Mercedes. “You do realize if that boy has one bag under his eye at the wedding, Kurt is going to murder you, right?”

“Don’t worry, we didn’t.” Sam winces a little at the sound of his own voice and lifts his head up just enough to swallow a mouthful of his coffee. It’s too hot and there’s not enough sugar but he’ll take what he can get. “What kind of best man do you think I am?”

Co-best man, technically, but it is too early for technicalities. 

“The kind of best man who needs a shower,” she says, making a face.

That’s not a bad idea. He trudges back up to the room he’s sharing with Cooper—who is probably already with Blaine since he wasn’t there when Sam finally crawled out of bed after serious consideration of throwing his phone at the wall to make it stop blaring the alarm—and takes a shower, turns it cold for the last minute to jolt him into full awake mode. Between that and the coffee, he’s feeling more human again as he shrugs into his suit and makes him way down the hall to Blaine’s room.

Tina yanks open the door while he’s still mid-knock and levels him with a glare. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Good morning to you too,” he says, walking past her. “And chill. There’s plenty of time.”

She closes the door and faces him with her arms crossed over the front of her pretty lavender bridesmaid dress. “Yeah, easy for you to say when you’re not the only one here and no one’s answering my texts,” she grumbles.

“Wait, Cooper’s not here?”

Tina’s hard expression melts into confusion. “He’s not with you?”

“No, I haven’t seen him all morning. I thought he was with Blaine.”

“You thought who was with me?” Blaine says.

He’s standing there doing up his bowtie, all decked out in his tux, and looking at him gives Sam this sudden rush of, like, feelings. Like, holy crap his best friend is getting _married_ , and even though it’s been a long time coming for Kurt and Blaine, the full weight of that knowledge slams into him like a freight train for the first time.

When did they all get so grown up?

“Seriously, guys,” Blaine says, “what’s going on?”

“Cooper’s missing,” Tina informs him.

Blaine’s hands freeze at the base on his neck, and his eyes start to get wide and mildly panicky, so Sam quickly steps forward and says, “He’s not missing, he’s just… not here. In this room, I mean. He’s in the hotel. Probably. I think. Don’t worry, I’m on it.”

He claps Blaine on the shoulder and bolts out of the room before Blaine can respond. Sam Evans: man on a mission. _Best_ man on a mission. He can’t help but be a little smug that he’s totally beating Cooper, even if all he’s done so far is show up. Not that it’s a competition, but… yeah, he’s totally winning.

The first place he checks is his room again, but there’s no sign of Cooper. A cursory check of Cooper’s bed and the bathroom reveals nothing either—no clothes from last night, no hair in the drain. He’s halfway to the elevator to check the lobby, since if the rehearsal dinner was any indication Mr. Anderson is likely camped out at the bar and maybe Cooper’s with him, when he runs into Santana. 

She looks him up and down with a smirk. “What’s the rush? Just get a Groupon for half off Carmex in bulk?”

“We can’t find Cooper,” he says. “Have you seen him?”

“Not since last night,” she says. “He’s the only one of you who could drink me under the table. He’s probably passed out in the middle of Times Square.” She jerks her head down the hall and starts walking. “Come on. Maybe Berry knows what’s up.”

They get to Rachel’s room, and Santana bangs on the door hollering Rachel’s name; it takes a full minute for the door to crack open and Rachel’s head to peer out.

“Please stop yelling,” she says, looking pained, and Sam’s glad he’s not the only one feeling the aftereffects from last night’s bender. She looks over at Sam. “What’s going on?”

“The hobbit’s freakishly good-looking brother is MIA,” Santana says. 

“Cooper wasn’t in our room this morning, and no one’s seen him,” Sam explains further. “Do you know where he is? ’Cause Blaine’s kind of freaking out.”

“Oh,” Rachel says, glancing over her shoulder and then back at them. “Well, I—”

“Oh my god,” Santana cuts in. “Your hair. You have _sex hair_.”

Rachel’s mouth drops open for a moment before she recovers. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Santana.”

“You’re a crap liar,” Santana says. “You have sex hair and shifty eyes _and_ you won’t open the door. You totally had sex last night, and whatever chump you boned is still in there, isn’t he?”

She forces the door all the way open with the heel of her hand over Rachel’s squeak of protest. It swings open to reveal Rachel wearing only a long button-down—a _men’s_ button-down shirt—and her underwear, and next to her bed is a guy buckling the belt of his pants.

Not just any guy.

Cooper.

Santana looks like a cat that just swallowed a truckload of canaries. “Guess we can call off the search party.”

“Uh,” Sam says stupidly, averting his gaze to the ceiling, because—well, this is not what he expected.

“Rachel Berry, you saucy little minx,” Santana says. “You know, I’m actually proud.”

If Cooper is even remotely flustered, he masks it well. He pulls his undershirt over his head in one fluid motion, runs a hand through his luxurious hair (Sam may be straight but he can appreciate a good head of hair when he sees it), and flashes them one of his brilliant, easy smiles.

“Heard you were looking for me.” He winks at them as he crosses the room, briefly touches a hand to the small of Rachel’s back and leans close to her ear. “You can give me the shirt back later.”

Rachel’s face is burning beet red, but she manages a nod and tight smile before looking back at Santana and Sam. “If you’ll excuse me,” she says primly, “I have a wedding to get ready for.”

She promptly shuts the door in their faces. Sam turns and glares at Cooper, because seriously.

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” Cooper says, knocking him lightly on the shoulder and starting off down the hall. “Best man, maid of honor. I’m merely honoring tradition.”

“ _Co_ -best man,” Sam corrects as he falls in step beside him. Technicalities are important. He cuts his eyes over at Santana, who is typing away furiously on her phone. “What are you doing?”

“Telling every single person I know about this,” she says without looking up.

In the three minutes it takes to trek back to Blaine’s room, word has obviously spread since he and Tina are standing there staring at them as they enter.

“Look at you! Man of the hour!” Cooper immediately tugs Blaine into a giant hug, then pulls back and holds him by the shoulders. “So proud of you, little brother. Big day, huh? How’re you feeling?”

Blaine just stares back at him, unimpressed.

“Seriously, Coop?” he says. “You and Rachel? Seriously?”

“Aw, come on, don’t be like that. Sometimes a man and a woman—”

“Please don’t,” Blaine begs. “I really don’t need to hear about that. Ever.”

“All right, all right. So what can I do for you, Blainey? Anything, you name it. Your best man is here to serve.”

“ _Co_ -best man,” Sam points out again.

“Really, I just need you to—” Blaine is cut off by the sound of his cell phone ringing from where it sits on the vanity, surrounded by an impressive array of hair product. He groans. “What is it now?”

“Don’t sweat it, brother. I’ll handle this,” Cooper says smoothly, snatching the phone and answering. “Hello, best man speaking.” He pauses. “Uh huh. Mmhm. Okay. So you’re saying… You’re sure? Right. Got it. Yes, I understand. Of course. Thank you.” 

He ends the call, and Blaine is looking at him expectantly.

“Well?” Blaine says. “Who was that?”

“Before I say, promise me you aren’t going to panic,” Cooper says.

“Dude, whenever people say that it just means there’s something to panic over,” Sam says. “Just spit it out already.”

Cooper turns and raises an eyebrow at him. “Clearly you do not understand the importance of setting a scene. You have to create a lead-in to ease—”

“ _Cooper_.” Blaine sounds like he’s on the verge of snapping. Sam thinks he even sees his jaw twitch. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“Your wedding officiant is in the hospital,” Cooper says, in the same casual tone of voice he’d use to announce the weather.

“ _What?_ ”

“Appendicitis. Emergency surgery. She won’t be here.”

“But—I’m getting married in _two hours_! What am I supposed to do?”

“Sit tight. I’m going to fix this. Well, first I’m going to get dressed, and then I’m going to fix this.”

Once Cooper’s gone, Blaine sinks onto the vanity seat, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I’ll go get you some water,” Tina says, squeezing him comfortingly on the shoulder before leaving too.

Now is the time to step up and be the best man, Sam thinks. Co-best man. Whatever.

“Hey, everything’s going to be fine,” he says, patting Blaine on the back.

Blaine snorts. “How? Half the wedding party is still drunk from last night, Finn is probably going to bash Cooper over the head with a folding chair, and Kurt and I are going to be up there _marrying ourselves._ ”

“Who cares? That stuff doesn’t matter. It’s just stuff,” Sam says. He ducks his head to Blaine’s eye level and puts a hand on his shoulder. “All that matters is that you’re here, Kurt’s here, and you’re getting married. You haven’t shut up about this day since we were sixteen. Now it’s here, so just relax. Enjoy it.”

He thinks his pep talk must not have completely failed, because Blaine is smiling a little now and looks a lot less like he’s ready to jump out of his skin than he did five minutes ago.

“I didn’t talk about it that much,” Blaine says, turning to the mirror and patting down his slicked hair.

“Yeah, you kind of did. Dude, you had _scrapbooks_. And ten playlists. And a ‘Kurt and Blaine’s Wedding Planning’ folder with a million internet bookmarks.”

Blaine meets Sam’s gaze in the reflection. “Wait, did you go through my computer?”

“If you didn’t want me to, you shouldn’t have ever left me alone with your laptop.” Sam grins when Blaine rolls his eyes good-naturedly. He watches Blaine adjust the edges of his bowtie for a moment and says, “Feeling better?”

“A little,” he says on a sigh. “I’d feel _a lot_ better if I could just see Kurt.”

“Then I’ll go get him for you,” Sam offers.

As he starts to stand, however, Blaine reaches out and grabs his sleeve to stop him.

“No, you can’t,” he says quickly. “We aren’t supposed to see each other before the wedding. Kurt made me promise. It’s really important to him.”

Sam rubs his chin with one hand. It’s what people do in movies whenever they’re trying to think and stuff. It must work, because—

“I have an idea.”

\--

**Kurt**

If there is one thing Kurt is accustomed to, it’s the other shoe dropping. 

Everything about today so far has gone according to plan— so when Sam bursts through the hotel room door, rushes right up to Kurt and says, “You gotta come with me,” Kurt feels like he’s been waiting for this to happen.

A flash of alarm shoots through his chest.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. “Is Blaine okay?”

“Oh, he’s fine,” Sam says, and Kurt feels the sudden spike of panic die down, replaced with a combination of relief and irritation at Sam’s dramatics. “But he’s a little freaked out.”

Kurt’s stomach sinks again. “Are you telling me Blaine has cold feet?”

“What? No! Are you kidding me? Of course not. If anything it’s the opposite. His feet are, like, on fire. Is that a thing?”

Mercedes just shakes her head. Kurt clenches his jaw and silently counts to ten in his head—his well-honed coping mechanism for dealing with idiots.

“Sam,” he says slowly, when he’s more sure he isn’t going to explode, “please get to the point.”

“He just needs to see you,” Sam explains. “Except I know, you’re not supposed to see each other before the ceremony or whatever. I’ve got a plan, though.”

Kurt pauses. “I’m listening.”

\--

Five minutes later he’s being steered down the hotel hallway, blindfolded by one of his silk scarves.

“I look ridiculous,” he says. He keeps his hands out in front of him since he does not trust Sam to not walk him into a wall by accident. And if he trips and falls and messes up his suit— _designer, custom Marc Jacobs original_ suit courtesy of Isabelle’s string pulling—he cannot be held responsible for his actions.

“Since when have you ever cared about looking ridiculous?” Sam says, then tugs him to a stop. “Okay, we’re here.”

Kurt hears the swipe of the keycard and the door opening, and Sam nudges him forward. He keeps leading Kurt into the room until something hits his knees—the edge of the mattress.

“Blaine?” he says uncertainly, lowering himself on to the bed.

“Kurt,” Blaine’s voice says, right there, so close.

Kurt scoots up on the bed and reaches out blindly until he finds Blaine’s hands, grasps them tight. They feel warm and solid in his own.

“Will you please explain to me what’s going on?” he says. 

Blaine squeezes Kurt’s hands, runs a thumb over the top of Kurt’s palm. “It’s silly,” he says. “I’m sorry. I know you didn’t want us to see each other—”

“Well, I can’t see _anything_ right now, so technically we’re not breaking any rules,” Kurt points out.

“True,” Blaine laughs, then sighs and pulls Kurt’s hands a little closer. “There’s sort of a problem. Our wedding officiant called this morning. She has to get emergency surgery and isn’t going to be there, and I have no idea what we’re going to do.”

Kurt lets this sink in for a minute. Like every other aspect of the wedding planning, they’d done a lot of research before settling on the right officiant—non-religious, sense of humor, someone who would be the most fitting for their ceremony. Even if they could get a replacement justice of the peace at such late notice, it’s not going to be the same.

“Cooper said he’s going to fix it,” Blaine continues, “but you know Cooper. He’ll probably want to audition for the part himself.”

“Okay,” Kurt says carefully, “that’s—less than ideal.” To put it mildly. Now he knows why Blaine was freaking out; his inner perfectionist is freaking out, too, but he also knows it’s important to stay calm. For Blaine’s sake. “But it’s fine. It’ll be fine. We’ll make it work. Even if we have to get your brother to fill in.”

“I’m sorry. I just wanted everything to be perfect for you.”

“Hey,” he chides, sliding closer, moving his hands to cup the sides of Blaine’s face. “It _will_ be perfect. As long as you’re there.”

Under his palms he can feel Blaine’s cheeks lift into a smile.

“I really, really love you,” Blaine says.

“I love you too,” Kurt says, “but let’s save something for the vows, okay?”

He leans forward, nose bumping into Blaine’s cheek; Blaine laughs, and this close Kurt can actually feel the rumble of it. He laughs, too, angles his face down and to the left and gives Blaine a lopsided kiss on the lips. Blaine’s mouth opens under his, soft and so familiar, and it takes all of his willpower not to just say screw it all and push Blaine down on the mattress and have his way with him right here.

They’ve done a lot in the bedroom but nothing with blindfolds. He mentally adds that to the sexual activities to-do list. Now’s not the time, but they’re going to have forever.

He can wait.

\--

It turns out Cooper does, in fact, fix things.

Or, well, he finds someone who can fix things: Mercedes.

“I got ordained online last year,” she explains, and off of Kurt’s surprised look, “What? I was bored.”

“And you’d be willing to step in?” he asks. They’re back in his hotel room, his scarf blindfold removed, hair from where Blaine’s hands wandered through it carefully arranged back into place.

Everything is ready, except of course this one thing. Which is a pretty big thing, and a big thing to ask of Mercedes—

“Kurt, I’d be _honored_ ,” she says, and breaks into a broad grin. “Baby, I am going to blow it out of the water.”

“You are a lifesaver,” he tells her, “and officially my favorite person in the world.” He jumps up and hugs her close, looking over her shoulder at Cooper, who appears pleased with himself. “Can you ask Blaine if he’s okay with this?”

“One step ahead of you.” Cooper waves his phone. “Blaine’s on board. He texted me back and said yes. With eleven exclamation points.”

Mercedes plants a kiss on Kurt’s cheek. “Let’s go get you married.”

\--

**Rachel**

There’s nothing like New York in summer. Of course, as far as Rachel is concerned, there is nothing like autumn in New York, or winter in New York, or New York, period; she can still remember the first time she stepped foot in the city, seventeen and bursting at the seam with all her hopes and dreams, and the immediate sense of belonging that washed over her. It’s something she’s only felt a handful of times in her life: the first time she stepped on a stage. Joining New Directions.

There’s nothing like New York, and there’s nothing like Central Park. Kurt and Blaine chose an exquisite setting for their wedding—next to the pond, secluded and surrounded by greenery, but with the skyline as a backdrop.

Perfect, and perfectly New York.

As Kurt’s maid of honor, Rachel has spent the last few months almost as immersed in the wedding planning as Kurt and Blaine; it’d be easy to say that being bombarded with seating arrangements and invitation designs and flower selections and everything else led her to feel lonely, and that that loneliness led her into Cooper’s arms, except that would be a copout.

Because she didn’t feel lonely. All right, maybe sometimes—but she didn’t feel like there was any deep void in her life just because she hadn’t had a steady boyfriend in a year. After all, she’d only just graduated NYADA and already landed an agent who was lining up auditions; she was still the understudy for Funny Girl and gotten her first chance to take the stage last week after the lead’s bout with a nasty flu; she had Kurt, and Santana, and her dads, and people who loved her. Everything in her life was in a great place.

So no, it wasn’t loneliness that made her sleep with Cooper last night—she feels quite fulfilled already. It was _Cooper_ himself. Charming and gorgeous and full of bravado in a way that’s reminiscent of Jesse St. James.

When she first spots him on the walkway by the pond, she almost stops breathing; he looks devastatingly handsome in his sharply cut tux, like the movie star he’s so far failed to be. 

Cooper meets her gaze across the distance and smiles. She thinks of approaching him, giving him back the button-down neatly folded and tucked in her purse, but then Sam is whisking him away to the ceremony spot.

“Someone’s got it bad.”

Rachel turns to see Santana sauntering up to her, Quinn in tow. She takes a breath and tries to school her expression into something neutral.

“Please, Santana, can we not right now?” she says. “Today isn’t about me. Or you. It’s Kurt’s day. You know, Kurt, our dear friend who we’re here to support for one of the most important days of his life?”

Santana rolls her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Save the sentimental bull, Rachel. Everyone knows the only good thing about weddings is the open bar.”

“And the hookups,” Quinn adds, and shoots Santana a sidelong look Rachel can’t quite decipher. She links one arm with Santana and the other with Rachel. “Come on, ladies. A wedding waits for no one.”

\--

The ceremony is beautiful. Having such musically-inclined friends comes in handy at a wedding—they all sing “Here Comes The Sun” as Kurt walks down the aisle; Mercedes makes a wonderful officiant, without a doubt better than the original plan; Kurt and Blaine laugh and cry their way through their vows, and by the time they’re sealing them with a kiss, there’s not a dry eye in the house.

Rachel doesn’t get a chance to speak to Cooper until the reception at the boathouse. She’s sitting at the white-clothed table, watching as Kurt and Blaine take the floor for their first dance, when Cooper slips into the seat next to her.

“They make quite the couple, don’t they?” he says, one elbow propped on the table as he leans his chin in his hand. “I’m glad it looks like Blaine finally listened to me and took some dance lessons. His form’s much better than it used to be. Still not as good as mine, though.”

Rachel shifts toward him, crossing her leg over her knee and letting her heeled sandal dangle off her foot. At this range she can get a better view of Cooper’s very handsome, very symmetrical face.

“Hmm.” She reaches over to steal a bite of his cake off his plate, and when she looks back up, he’s fixing her with an indignant look.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” he scoffs. His eyes are sparkling. It’s intense being under the focus of his full attention, but Rachel likes it. After all, when has she ever not enjoyed being the center of someone’s attention? They have that in common.

“I don’t know. I mean, I’ve known your brother for years. He’s very talented. Are you sure you’re better than him?” she teases.

“Oh, so this is a challenge now?” he laughs. He pushes back from his chair and extends a hand. “Come on. I’ll prove it to you.”

Rachel waits for a moment, looking up at him as he grins at her, palm extended. For a second, just a second, she lets herself indulge in the fantasy of what they’d be like together— _actually_ together, not just some whirlwind, two-night stand affair.

It would never work. She’s New York to the bone; he’s completely L.A. They’re from two different worlds. 

But tonight he’s here, and there’s nothing more romantic than a wedding in the New York summertime.

She takes his hand and lets herself be swept off her feet.

\--

**Blaine**

Everything is perfect.

The wedding went off without a hitch, the reception was the most fun he’s had in years, and now he’s in a car with his husband on their way back to the hotel, pleasantly tipsy and warm, and seriously, it could not be more perfect.

Blaine falls against Kurt’s side, face buried in his neck, and starts to laugh.

Kurt pokes him lightly in the ribcage. “What’s so funny?”

“We’re _married_ ,” Blaine says, nuzzling against Kurt’s shoulder. He presses a kiss there and grins. “Oh my god. You’re my _husband_.”

“Why is that—“ Kurt starts, and then laughs too. “Oh my god, you’re right. That’s _is_ weird to say out loud.” He twists and slides down so their foreheads are pressed together. “I love you so much. Husband.”

He dissolves into giggles again, and Blaine kisses him hard, feels Kurt’s laughter reverberating through him.

“I’m so glad everything worked out,” Blaine says against his mouth.

Kurt kisses him again and says, “I’m so glad Mercedes was there. We need to buy her something expensive and shiny. I’m thinking a pashmina.”

“Yes. Definitely. I’m just so glad it wasn’t my brother.”

“Oh, god, me too.”

Blaine slings his leg over Kurt’s thigh, pushes his mouth to Kurt’s again. Kurt kisses him back and fumbles with Blaine’s suit jacket until it’s unbuttoned. He starts to untuck Blaine’s shirt and slip a hand under his waistband, and as much as Blaine is really, really enjoying this, he knows if they don’t stop now, it’ll probably get out of hand.

“Hey, hey,” he says, wriggling back so there’s a little space between them; Kurt whines a little in the back of his throat. “Let’s save it for the hotel. We’ve got the rest of the night.”

Kurt pouts a little, but then he straightens in his seat, leans in and smooths out the rumpled lapels of Blaine’s suit. He’s smiling, and it’s the most beautiful thing Blaine has ever seen; Kurt is always the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

They have the rest of the night, but really, they have more than that. They have the rest of their lives, and Blaine has never been more ready for anything in his life than he is for that.

“Yes,” Kurt agrees, “we do.”

**Author's Note:**

> Written for seaouryou for the Klaine Wedding Mini Bang. She asked for Kurt and Blaine trying not to see each other before the wedding, last-minute complications, and Cooper.
> 
> [Here](http://www.flickr.com/photos/ryanbudhu/8107125036/sizes/k/in/photostream/) is where Kurt and Blaine hold the ceremony. Title comes from [Maria Taylor's song](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MKN2W9OT1e8) of the same name.


End file.
